


The Softest Coil Of Barbed Wire

by daffodil_daisy



Series: Season Of Kink 2019 [2]
Category: NOS4A2 (TV)
Genre: Bar Culture, Bisexual Female Character, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gentle Sex, Gross Fuckboys, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-23 20:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil_daisy/pseuds/daffodil_daisy
Summary: A drug addict and a murderer walk out of a bar...





	The Softest Coil Of Barbed Wire

It’s a month after burning the Wraith down to the ground when Maggie next contacts Vic. It’s about ten at night when her beat up phone buzzes with a text. That in itself is a little unusual. Ever since Craig died and Vic lost her one source of comfort at otherwise unrelatable high school parties, she hasn’t been attending functions. Not that anyone’s been inviting her either. The slow trickle of ‘invite the teenage widow’ offerings dried up as quickly as people’s sympathy for horror usually does, and all Vic’s been left with is home, and her mother’s ever present resentment about RISD looming.

So Vic picks up her phone when it vibrates on the table, for a lack of anything else to do. The rush of panic that hits her when she sees the sender is Maggie morphs when Vic reads the actual words. It’s not an Inscape related emergency. Manx, or as she refers to him now, That Motherfucker, isn’t back from the dead. There are no missing kids Maggie’s Scrabble bag has decided to let them know about. What it is, is a hugely creepy guy that won’t take no for an answer at a bar. It’s a female emergency, and if Maggie’s upset enough to ask for rescue, then what can Vic do except provide it?

Vic leaves the house without telling her mother where she’s going. She can’t tell the truth and she gets tired of lying constantly, so sometimes it’s better to say nothing at all. The Shorter Way takes her to a split level building. The business up five steps is a closed for the night tattoo parlour. The business down five steps is a club with tinged lighting shining out of the one window. Vic stomps down the metal staircase and thankfully doesn’t have to pay a cover, being a rare female to be lured in. Vic hates the skeezy motive but also doesn’t have a lot in her wallet, so it’s ultimately a good thing. 

She scans the club from the entrance, tugging down the collar of her white tank top under her leather jacket as she does. Normally Vic couldn’t care less about cleavage, but it’s better if she fits in just a little. Her fake ID won’t hold under real scrutiny. Lucky for her, she’s moving quickly. Maggie’s violet hair stands out among the blonds and brunets. The guy standing so close to her doesn’t look like a predator. At worst he’s a guy slightly bro’d up for the night out, but half the seniors at Vic’s shitty high school have that look. But Vic believes Maggie’s desperate text, so she storms onto the floor and tucks herself under Maggie’s arm. She doesn’t let herself collapse from the pain in her sinuses, though she can’t help her eye bleeding. Hopefully he’s not looking at her too close.

“There you are, babe!” Maggie exclaims. 

“Sorry I’m late. Close took longer than expected,” Vic faux apologizes. It’s the details that make lies believable. 

“See, Derek? I do have a wife, so as much as you could have made me change my mind when I was single, I just can’t break up my marriage for someone I just met.”

“What’s going on?” Vic demands. It’s the details that sell it, and Vic needs to sell actual wife walks in on weird happenings, not friend called to the rescue. Wife-Vic would be confused and frustrated.

“What’s going on is I thought your girl was selling me a line, but turns out she was telling the truth. Females don’t always do that.”

Oh Christ. Yeah, Vic can see why Maggie needed her now. If Derek so much as says the word Stacey she’s punching him in the teeth.

“Well, Vic and I have been together since high school, and we got married a year ago,” Maggie says with a firm smile. 

Vic’s got a history of fake marriages, starting with when she was in first grade and she was every boy in the room’s wife, with all the fingers of both hands covered in twist tie rings. After that was Grade Eight grad, theme of Wedding Parties, flowers and cake everywhere, when she posed with Zacharias McIntyre and called out ‘forever amen’ with a smile when the photo was taken. And then there were the final moments she had with Craig, the promise of meeting him in the next life, because this one was over now. This declaration of marriage hurts in a whole new way, because it brings to mind a happy loving life of the kind she’ll never have.

Derek grins slickly. “Oh, you girls are still in your honeymoon stage. Wanna have a threeway? When you’re old you’ll wish you’d done more crazy things during your honeymoon period.”

Vic’s eyes flutter shut as she tries to not tell the fuckboy to fuck right off. It’s 2019, it’s not always safe to piss off a straight white boy. Better to humor him while worming out of it. 

Maggie comes up with the magic words that make him slink away. “We actually are doing the craziest thing... For the next full month, Vic’s in charge of the strap on. It’s actually kinda hot, getting railed by someone all Alice Cooper in the bedroom.” She lets out a drunk giggle, and if Vic didn’t know better she’d think Maggie really was drunk and spilling their secrets. “My pussy hasn’t been this sore in forever. I can recommend it, Derek, if you wanna leave the bar with us.”

“Wait- You think I should-” Derek chuckles and adjusts his stance. “Ladies, have a nice night. I’m off to find someone more in need of my talents.”

Derek walks away like he thinks Maggie and Vic don’t know he wants to run, like he thinks his bullshit isn’t exceedingly transparent. To seal the deal Maggie bends down for a kiss. She tastes like peach vodka, sugar plastered over the hard taste of alcohol. Kind of a metaphor for life, don’t you think, covering the hard areas with a patina of sweetness that lures you into the assumption that you’ll be able to survive crashing into the middle? 

Good call, Vic has to admit, when Derek turns back once more to check them out. They’re maintaining the lie they need to get out of the situation for good. If it hurts Vic to do it, well, since when do boys ever know how much they’re hurting people?

Except then it gets weird. Derek is distinctly out of the picture, sleazing on some woman across the bar, and they’re still mouth to mouth. Maggie is still kissing her, and Vic doesn’t make herself stop. It’s as destructive as drinking with her dad was a month ago, just with less property damage. Vic knows why she’s doing this -she’s broken, she’s an everlasting fuck-up in need of things she can never have- but she doesn’t know why Maggie is. Maggie needed her for the solution to a problem, and now that it’s solved, what other use does Vic serve?

When Maggie breaks the kiss, she’s flustered. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t right of me. You’re not even- you’re straight!”

“I never said that.”

“You were with Craig. You thought you were going to have a baby with him, Vic.”

Maggie telling her things she already knows isn’t helping them. Eight days after the positive pregnancy test Vic woke up with cramps and spotting. According to the internet, one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage in the first trimester. She’s not an anomaly, just an unlucky bitch. It’s not like Vic wanted to have a kid at seventeen and relive her mother’s life. But it’s still a loss, one more to throw on top of the pyre.

Vic resists the urge to yell not anymore loud enough to make everyone in the bar look at her. Her parents influence on her, that is. Instead she goes with a milder “one boyfriend doesn’t make someone one hundred percent straight.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry.”

Vic could go one of two ways. She could ask Maggie why this _isn’t right_. Or she could try to tap into whatever had Maggie wanting this in the first place. Call her a stupid blue collar pragmatist, but sometimes actions are better than words.

She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach Maggie’s mouth when Maggie’s not bending to meet her. That’s fine though. After crawling up a vertical laundry chute, no other physical task can really compare. And after a minute of one sided kissing Maggie eases into it. She melts against Vic, her mouth opening and her hands landing on Vic’s sides. With Maggie curled down, Vic is able to rest on flat feet again.

“Can we use the Shorter Way to get somewhere better? Or would that hurt your head too much?”

Vic wraps a paint speckled hand around Maggie’s wrist and begins to pull her towards the exit. The bouncer cares about her the exact same amount on the way out as on the way in, which is to say, nil. Her dirt bike is across the street, and with only a few ice pick stabs through the eye they’re in the parking lot of a clean but remote motel. Vic doesn’t know what city they’re in, and she doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is speeding through the formalities of getting a room so she can bolt up the metal stairs lining the outside of the building.

Maggie’s so beautiful as she peels off her clothes, black jeans and a flowy purple shirt a few shades darker than her hair. She’s not the first girl Vic’s thought beautiful, but she’s the first Vic’s been able to touch. 

“Get on the bed?” Vic asks.

“Come here,” Maggie pleads in return the instant she’s reclined on the white sheets. 

It’s nothing Vic could ever say no to. Vic descends on the only good thing left in her life -at least for the summer, RISD’s not for six more weeks- with rare joy.

The sex is slower than Vic thought possible. Sex with another woman is a full body hug, legs and breasts and bellies rubbing against each other. Vic’s got both her arms wrapped around Maggie, and Maggie holds her close with one arm while the other is free to tuck between Vic’s legs. Maggie thumbs Vic’s clit like there’s no rush to come, like it’s an intimate massage, not a sex act. It’s crazy, how such a calm approach can feel like such a relief.

The slow build to orgasm still gets Vic there. Of course it does, Maggie would never be harsh enough to deny Vic pleasure like that. Vic tucks her head into the crook of Maggie’s neck and sighs out her bliss. She smells like the floral herbal perfume she must have put on before going to the bar. And then it’s time to return the favor. 

Slipping her index and middle finger into Maggie’s folds finds her wet and wanting. It’s new territory, touching someone else’s pussy. There’s an aspect of sharing that doesn’t come with fooling around with a man. It’s like Vic is physically telling Maggie _this is what I like, I hope you like it too_. And as far as she can tell, Maggie does. She rocks into the light penetration until Vic’s fingers are in to the second knuckle. Vic does her best to keep it that shallow, just enough of a fingerfuck to stretch Maggie and make her hole clench. She uses her left hand to circle Maggie’s clit, wanting nothing more than to get her off and get the afterglow chemicals flowing. 

At some point, it works. Vic’s not exactly timing it, even if she could see the alarm clock on the dresser from this position there’s no rush, no curfew needing to be met or overdramatic parent compulsively interrupting. But it happens, Maggie’s orgasm slow and lush like maple syrup pouring out over pancakes. Vic eases her through it, swallows the sound of Maggie’s sweet whimper by licking her throat as she mewls. She can only hope that Maggie’s orgasm feels as kind as her own did.

Laying on the rumpled warm sheets, snuggled against the only ally she has left alive, Vic comes to the sudden realization that she’s attracted to softness. As much as Craig tried to protect himself from high school, and that town, he was gentle. He loved her so much he tried to toughen enough to kill a monster, and it just wasn’t possible. And there’s no other word for what just happened, besides _soft_. It’s scary to know vulnerable is her type. Maggie’s already been hurt a hundred times, was driven to drugs to plaster it over, and just because the supernatural threat is defeated doesn’t mean anything else in the world has let up. 

Thing is, despite her best intentions, Vic’s never been able to do anything except make bad decisions. This, at least, is a bad decision she can enjoy for a while before it ruins her. Given her life, temporary happiness the most she can really ask for. Vic rests her head against Maggie’s shoulder, content to feel her face rising and falling slightly with each breath. She’ll take this for as long as she can, and when things inevitably go to shit, at least she’ll have the memory of softness.


End file.
